1. You did not go away, nor did you become a stranger,
You have always been close in the love of God,

2. O partner of sorrows in an era in which I saw,
Great injustice from our enemies,

3. And I saw weakness, retreat, and rebellion,
Among the sons of Islam, and the tyrants' robes,

4. O son of gunpowder, and in gunpowder when
The tyrant did not burn a branch dripping with perfume,

5. O brother of Islam, O rhymes' companion,
O friend of the letter that refuses to melt,

6. O partner in the worship of a name,
That became blessed with the Merciful, a beloved,

7. O friend of the eloquent Arabic language, you made
From our rhymes, a blossoming meadow,

8. And we took it as an Arabic tongue
That delights the poet among us and the orator,

9. If your body is absent from us, we still have
Your sweet memory that refuses to be absent,

10. And we have from your rhymes a breeze
That revives the flowers and awakens the nightingale,

11. Your overflowing poetry remains a sword
That kills the fear that overwhelms hearts,

12. Whenever the reciter recites it, he finds
In it the voice of truth that revives nations,

13. Al-Aqsa knows your rhymes as armies
That have long waged war on the tyrants,

14. And Gaza sees in your poetry a soul
Of loyalty that has always covered the roads,

15. Poetry with faith becomes an army
That deters tyranny from us and calamities,

16. It defeats the delusions that corrupt the mind
And the lies that fold hearts,

17. O traveler who left us on a path
That those who walked it can never come back,

18. We entrusted those we lost altogether
To a forgiving God who erases sins,

19. Thus is man in this life a sunrise
That summons sunset at the time of birth,

20. O son of gunpowder, my call to you
Is a call that brings heavy rain,

21. May God make your grave radiant,
A garden that grants you the fragrant branch,

22. And surround you with intimacy in your grave until
The grave becomes for you a spacious house,

23. Man is but a part of his brother
When he becomes a beloved in God,